


Your Japanese Is Terrible

by orphan_account



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Failboats In Love, Hina Is Far Too Succinct, M/M, Not-Really Porn, Yoko Thinks Too Much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Yoko’s not actually sure <i>what</i> Hina thinks of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Japanese Is Terrible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spurious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spurious/gifts).



> For Laura. Happy Birthday gross stuff etc. <3

The thing is, Yoko’s not actually sure _what_ Hina thinks of him.

Their experiences span a lifetime, if two decades can be considered one, and he can’t remember a time when Hina’s name wasn’t at least top five in his phone’s recent history or the first thing that pops up on auto-correct when he types “ひ”. It’s annoying, and telling, and the night before Yoko’s 33rd birthday he tells Hina everything has to stop.

“What’s stopping?” Hina chews birthday cake and Yasu tries not to eavesdrop. “What started?”

Yoko’s heart sinks but also flutters like he’s a teenage girl - it always does, it always will, so he goes home and sleeps with his girlfriend before sneaking out at 4am. He uses the key he says he’ll get rid of a million times to enter the house he says he’ll never go to again, and Hina wishes him a happy birthday as he slides under the covers.

 

\---

 

They decide to leave Teichiku and Yoko gets depressed. Maybe because he’s like that, because he’s prone to those things (not in a cool way like Subaru, but in a way that makes the others yell at him and ply him with alcohol in equal parts); so he starts working out and ignoring Hina, in that order. 

Maru notices first, then Yasu. Subaru says nothing, choosing to stare at them as he scratches at his hands; Ryo asks point blank what the problem is and Ohkura pulls faces. Everything is the way it should be, because Kanjani8 is a family-group-set-team, and Yoko suddenly wants to leave forever. 

“You’re so melodramatic,” Hina would say when Yoko got into his “moods”, and Yoko can’t help but feel nothing short but crushed that of all of them, Hina hasn’t even seemed to notice the silence.

 

\---

 

Yoko puts Hina’s key in his bag when Hina is out of the room.

He finds it back in his wallet later, and he presses the jagged teeth into the palm of his hand.

 

\---

 

He gets angry. It grows and grows and finally it bursts, in the middle of a rehearsal and Yoko vaguely notices Maru and Yasu ferrying the rest of the group and the staff out of the room. He feels like he should be embarrassed, but it manifests into more anger and his fist cracks in to Hina’s jaw before he even knows it.

Hina falls back, his legs bending and his mouth open in shock. He doesn’t start bleeding, and this upsets Yoko, like a flash of red would tell him to stop or give him the satisfaction of leaving a mark on Hina, _finally_.

Circles and rounds and ouroboros, the day they met to this very moment, and Yoko starts to yell. Loud words that make no sense; disconnected phrases and sounds that are desperate and sad even to his ears. It’s what he feels, finally, and his heart is pumping like he was running a race. Maybe he was, one he couldn’t win, but he’s telling Hina what he thinks and he really, really wishes he wasn’t.

He’s pathetic, because of Hina, and he’s everything, for the same reason.

Hina says nothing. He’s crouched on the floor, his mouth finally swelling and showing a sign that _Yokoyama You was here!_ , and Yoko runs out of steam.

The silence, like they often say, was deafening. Neither of them move, until the fuzzy sounds of what was outside of them pierces through and Yoko realises what he’s done.

He walks away before Hina does, and goes to the gym.

 

\---

 

The album comes out. Everyone teases him and Ohkura, but that’s the way it was going to be. He looks at himself in the mirror and feels proud, listens to his girlfriend when she says he looks good then breaks up with her ("It's just not working," but he knows she knows the real reason), and he prepares for the tour.

Hina skips every second rehearsal - they blame If Or… prep, or one of his seven thousand shows - but Yoko still tries to give the key back every time Hina is present. In his wallet, his tour notes folder, via a manager, but it never works. 

It was a game, really, because the key kept coming back.

 

\---

 

Yoko’s alone when he hears the key in the lock and he freezes. It’s a long night in December, a week before they were due in Nagoya, and he’s responding to a mail from Ohkura when Hina’s shadowy form appears in the genkan. He slips his shoes off, a mess of half-light and UNIQLO, then pads across the wood floor to the couch and drops down next to Yoko.

They sit in silence for half an hour. It’s half an hour, because Yoko’s phone lights up with another message from Ohkura (he always responds thirty minutes later, like clockwork, for some bizarre reason). Hina picks up Yoko’s phone before he can, lighting the screen and then promptly turning it off.

“Wait, I have to -”

Hina’s suddenly all around him, his tongue in Yoko’s mouth. He’s a good kisser, the best kisser; Yoko finds himself melting away like always, and it’s that point where the blood rushes into his ears in pure, red anger.

He pulls away from Hina and grabs him around the throat. He’s clutching him tightly enough that there’s already red marks swelling around his chin - Yoko freezes, his heart beating and his breath ragged, but he finds he can’t relax his fingers because the emotion won’t let him. It feels real, too real. He wants to kill him and hurt him and fuck him and love him, build a house and get a dog and punch him until he bleeds. Leak photos to Friday, selfies in an English garden, and Yoko hates Hina as much as he loves him. 

Hina makes a small gagging noise. Yoko’s eyes focus - _what am I doing?_ \- then Hina smirks, in challenge, bringing the anger rushing back so quickly that Yoko pushes Hina back from him and on to the floor. It has to hurt, the sound of Hina’s body connecting with the floor almost palpable, but Yoko doesn’t care.

He pulls up from the couch and stands over Hina. He knows he’s not intimidating, but from this angle, he’s got to be at least a little scary. He hopes this, his mind racing and his eyes stinging - and below him, Hina stares with a smile creasing his lips.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Yoko growls.

“You’re so bad with words.”

“Huh?”

“For someone who talks as much as you do, you can’t even - God, your Japanese is terrible.”

The rage wells up inside Yoko so quickly his head spins. It’s always him who has to talk first, initiate things, and Yoko is tired. He’s on his knees, pushing Hina’s legs apart before he knows what he’s doing, his arms on either side of his torso so their faces are almost touching. “What is this, Murakami?”

“What?” Serene, peaceful, cocky.

“Answer me. Or I swear I will walk out tomorrow and won’t look back.”

Hina pushes back a little, so he’s up on one arm. He’s warm, and familiar; Yoko suddenly feels sick with want and shame, because all he really wants is this. An answer, and this, this fucked up love story of epic nothingness because he was just as fucked up.

“You’re mine,” and it’s so dangerously low that Yoko almost misses it. 

Yoko’s eyes go wide and the anger releases. He feels let down and out of steam at the realisation that _this_ is exactly _this_ , and it’s not just affecting him anymore. It affects the group, the woman he used to call girlfriend but was always second best, and Yoko feels the strain of two decades pressing against his temples like a physical force. 

“Get out,” and Hina seems to oblige, until he reaches the genkan.

“Do you really want me to leave?”

A clock ticks, Yoko’s toes itch. He doesn’t look at Hina.

“If you tell me now, I’ll leave. And you can have your key back.”

Yoko closes his eyes. 

“I can’t give you answers, Yoko. I don’t know the answers. Whatever ‘this’ is, it’s enough for me.”

It’s cold, and Yoko wishes he’d turned the heater on. 

“I’m difficult because our world is difficult. This is what it is. It's you and me, and that's enough.”

_Is it?_ Of course it is, and Yoko opens his eyes. 

“Stay. Please.”

Hina’s next to Yoko impossibly fast, pulling at his lips with his teeth and undressing him with quick fingers. It’s a blur, one where Yoko is in charge; a mix of spit and lube and bitemarks. It’s the same, he feels, as he slides inside Hina and clutches his hand around Hina’s cock, but completely different. It’s different, he thinks, as Hina pulls Yoko’s hands to grip his neck; harder and rougher until Yoko can hear him choking, and that’s enough to make him come.

It’s different, because nothing has changed. But that’s okay for now, and Yoko doesn’t say goodbye when Hina leaves in the morning and says nothing when he slides under the covers that night. 

 

\---


End file.
